


Bonheur d'automne

by awayfromsight



Series: Baltimore Affairs [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Autumn, Electric Couple Prompt, F/M, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-16 05:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12336171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awayfromsight/pseuds/awayfromsight
Summary: Many things change during autumn.





	1. What Do You Say?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caissa/gifts), [NotPersephone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/gifts).



> My new entry for the Electric Couple prompt "Autumn".

The light of the setting autumn sun, streaming through a gap in the curtains was just bright enough to illuminate the two people, next to each other under the now rumpled covers of a grand 4 poster bed. Clothes were strewn across the bedroom floor and forming a trail down the hallway and stairs to the kitchen, where their current situation had found it’s beginning. Taken out of context, this scene would be nothing short of ordinary: A couple like any other, spending an evening in bed, looking utterly in love.  
A man, lying on his back next to his wife or girlfriend close to his side, both covered in sweat from their recent activities should, after all, not be unusual. Until, of course one gave it some context. 

“You know… I have a proposition for you,“ Hannibal said, trying to catch his breath and burying one of his hands in Bedelia’s hair as she made herself comfortable on his chest. She tucked her head under his chin, panting just as much as he was. 

“If it involves moving anytime soon, I don’t think I’m going to accept.“

She felt him chuckle underneath her and, feeling a smile tug at her own lips, tangled her legs with his, as if to ensure their current position would not change unless she permitted it to.  
His fingers, infamously known for inflicting unimaginable pain, gently combed through her no longer impeccable curls a few times before resting at the base of her neck. 

“No, I think I have stretched the limits of your patience enough for one day. I was actually referring to an idea for a future time.“

They were quiet for a while, enjoying the rare moment of just being close to the other. Both doctors were so used to being viewed as preying animals or untouchable gods, the longing to be unguarded with someone was something they could share.  
After what seemed like an eternity, she raised her head onto her hands to look at him, her inquisitive gaze searching his face, looking for a hint on what his planned endeavor could be.  
But she didn’t find any. She prided herself on her unreadable face, but still she sometimes found herself envying him. His outward persona was whatever he wished it to be and though she probably had the closest access to the real Hannibal Lecter, there were still parts of him behind the veil. All she saw was satisfaction and at that, she quickly tried to extinguish the little feeling of smugness that had started to form in the back of her mind. 

“I noticed a sign for an Applefarm just outside the city and thought that we could move the location of my therapy there for next week.“ His tone was light and conversational, yet she could feel a sense of hopeful glee coming off of him. The prospect of changing an aspect of their relationship, of taking it (and her) to a more public setting seemed to almost excite him. 

“Did you know that some people say, what a person thinks about during sex can tell you a lot about their personality? This topic seems a little unusual, even for you.“ He didn’t know when she had started feeling comfortable enough to tease him like this, but the playful twinkle in her eye and the curve on her lips made him feel glad that she did. He knew, that this was a side of his therapist not many people got to see. 

He raised a finger to touch the tip of her nose, probably looking equally as amused as she did, “I’m hosting another dinner party and I would like to end the evening with a Tarte de Pommes a la Normande. I thought sourcing the apples locally would be a nice touch and I know how you enjoy them around this time of year. Your invite to the table is as usual still open, should you wish to come.“

Bedelia smile faltered then and she let out a sigh, the sound feeling almost too familiar to her body. She couldn’t remember how many invitations she had declined over the years. Yet, he kept repeating himself again and again, like a dog chasing it’s tail or a small figurine, announcing the next full hour on an old clock.

“You know that accepting this invitation would be unethical. And I know how hypocritical that sounds, given our current state of undress, but I can’t compromise even more of my morals… As astounding as I know your meal is going to be, you’ll have to serve it without me.“

“I am aware of the ethical concerns, but even this… indiscretion has evolved form somewhere, has it not?“

She had to admit defeat at that argument. Thinking back to the beginning of their “arrangement“ made her realize how much truth there was in his words.  
The first time had been months ago, after their single glass of something pink had lead to three or four and eventually into him lifting her up on the kitchen counter, bunching her skirt around her waist. The next few times after that, Bedelia had told herself that they were simply letting of some steam and ushered him out the door mere minutes after they had regained their bearings. Then, she told herself that it didn’t count as long as they never did it in a bed, or as long as she didn’t let herself linger. She never used to let him stay, allow him to hold or even kiss her, never mind enter her bedroom, but somehow he had slowly managed to break all of her rules. 

What had started as a short, rushed affair between opening wine bottles and agreeing on a schedule for the upcoming weeks, had transitioned into entire afternoons or evenings spent together in her bed, curled up around each other. They shared kisses and sentiments more often than not and while he had not spent the night with her yet, she had caught herself ready to fall asleep with his arms around her too many times already. 

She had promised herself, that it would be a one time thing. Now, almost every therapy session ended with them between her sheets and a kiss goodbye at her door. 

“That does not justify starting up a second one, Hannibal. I know you rarely deny yourself an indulgence but one of us needs to.“

While the hand that wasn’t still resting in her hair traced the curve of her back, his eyes swept over her face, taking in every angle and every line. She did not need to ask what he was thinking.  
‘What can I say to make you do as I wish?’  
But he knew just as well as she did that the answer to that question was `Nothing’ and she suspected that this Nothing was one of the reasons she was still alive. 

“Alright. But your seat will remain unoccupied, if you change your mind. I would like to introduce you to some of my acquaintances.“ 

Suddenly rising from her spot on his chest and sitting upright, she turned her back to him, a second, deeper sigh making its way up her throat. 

“Hannibal. I’m your therapist, not your girlfriend.“ 

She felt him follow behind her, as he sat up as well, brushing her hair away from her shoulder and replacing it’s touch with his lips. Even in her apparent exasperation at his proposal, she couldn’t stop the chills he sent down her spine.  
“Yes, I am aware of that. Introducing you as such was never my intention. I simply think that keeping you to myself all the time is… selfish,“ he whispered against her skin, just now cooling down from their earlier engagement. 

It was her turn to laugh.  
“You don’t like to share anything, Hannibal, why should I believe that you’d want to share me?“ She turned her head to the side, meeting him halfway for another one of many kisses that evening. Bedelia felt him smile against her mouth, his hands moving around her waist as if to make sure she wouldn’t move too far away again. 

“Point taken. I was simply worried about you wasting all of your brilliance on me. But in your professional opinion, am I at least capable of sharing you with the produce at the Cider Mill Farm?“ His lips moved against hers as he spoke, his breath still tasting of the Vintage Red they had shared a few hours before and, she noted with a little triumph, of her. She inwardly congratulated herself on leaving her taste on him without it having fatal consequences, though she wasted no time debating whether or not many people had shared that same success. Or rather, thinking of those that hadn’t. 

“Your flattery has become too transparent, Hannibal. But I think that can be arranged. Same time as usual?“

“Same time as usual,“ he agreed from his spot against her back.

She gathered the sheets around herself, getting up from the bed and his embrace, stepping over to her walk-in closet. Grabbing a robe from a hanger, she exchanged the sheets for cream colored satin and turned around to watch him pick up the few items of clothing that had made it to the bedroom.  
They followed the proverbial breadcrumbs they had left on their way upstairs, picking up what had been hastily discarded earlier, as if baiting someone, daring them to follow and when they reached her entrance hall, Hannibal was fully dressed again. 

“I could pick you up here and we’ll drive together, if you want? Sharing a car seems like the most logical procedure, don’t you think?“ His left hand was resting on the door handle, the right one reached up to brush away a curl that had fallen in her face when she had bent down to pick up her now ruined blouse. Another sad victim of his passionate impatience, but what should one expect when toying with a beast, Bedelia mused. 

He opened the door and was ready to make his departure when she positioned herself in the doorway, leaning against the frame and looked up at him with a smile somewhere between bliss and intrigue of what their new setting might reveal about the most elusive man she knew.  
Wrapping a hand around his tie, she pulled him down for one last, longing kiss.  
They broke apart after a moment longer than was strictly decent, and she held him close for a few seconds, weighing her options.  
Finally, she hummed her response. 

“It does. I’ll see you next week.“


	2. What Do I Say?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot can happen amongst the apple trees. Not all of them are entirely anticipated.

Over the next seven days, both Doctors found themselves anticipating their session more than usual. Despite all efforts, they had fallen into a rather predictable routine of talking, wine and (great) sex that, while neither of them wanted to give it up, lacked the thrill one would generally expect from an involvement (Bedelia still vehemently refused to call it a relationship) with the Chesapeake Ripper. Whenever either of them checked the weather forecast for their next appointment, they told themselves that it was simply the careful thing to do. After all, they did not want to pick apples during a storm, did they? The day approached slowly and a picture book could not have depicted a more perfect autumn day. The streets were littered with leaves in every color, the sun shone through white, puffy clouds and it was just cold enough to warrant for a scarf and for couples to hold hands wherever they went.  
So when Bedelia heard the familiar sound of his car coming up her drive way, she stood ready at her entrance, gloves in hand, like a schoolgirl, waiting for the bus to pick her up. 

Hannibal parked the car and exited, walking around to open the door for her, every inch the perfect gentleman and it took him every bit of self-control not to grin as wide as his face would allow, or to pick her up and spin her around when she allowed him to briefly kiss her hello.  
When Bedelia got into the car with him, she noticed a whicker basket containing a checkered blanket in the backseat, as if they were headed for a romantic picnic. 

“Hannibal… You are aware that this is still a regular therapy session, aren’t you? This new location does not change the boundaries and guidelines of our relationship as therapist and patient.“

He simply smiled, his eyes never leaving the road as he drove back down her driveway and onto the street. It was quite frankly a little infuriating.  
“The blanket is to protect the apples, Bedelia. I don’t want them to bruise and ruin the look of the Tarte.“ 

Quickly averting her eyes and turning to look out of the passenger window, she sincerely hoped that the blush creeping up her face was well hidden from his piercing gaze. She absolutely hated that he could toy with her like that, knowing that she liked to analyze his actions, to draw conclusions more from the things he didn’t say than from those he did.  
Having been his therapist and his colleague for many years, she knew him better than most, maybe better than anyone currently alive but he still found ways to render her speechless. She also knew that she shouldn’t like that nearly as much as she did. 

The rest of the car ride was spent in near silence, neither of them feeling the need to speak beyond pleasantries and inquiries about their time between sessions.When Hannibal turned onto the narrow gravel street leading to the orchard outside of the city’s limits, they could already see the hundreds upon hundreds of apple trees, neatly planted next to an old, charming farm house.  
After parking near the entrance, both therapist and patient got out of the vehicle, basket and blanket in hand and walked past the first few lines of trees and the families and couples grouped around them, chattering idly. 

“This is a gorgeous farm, Hannibal. I almost can’t believe you chose it at random,“ Bedelia said, walking a little ahead of him and turning on the spot to admire the sunlight streaming through the colourful leaves. He simply hummed, too busy to admire the way she seemed to fit perfectly into her surroundings. Her brilliance and elegance seemed to elevate every inch of nature around her, the sunlight seemingly illuminating her, turning her golden.  
He used to think that winter suited her best, the world racing desperately to match her cool, calculated demeanor, but maybe the comforting beauty of autumn was worthy of her, too. 

It took him entirely too long to notice that she had become aware, that his mind was far from their present conversation and turned back to face him, only to find Hannibal staring right at her with a smile that would bleed affection if one were to peel it off of him. His gaze immediately shifted from her face to the nearest tree, trying to look as distracted as possible. Bedelia had to suppress a smile as she made her way back over to him.

“What exactly did you hope to accomplish with the change in location, Hannibal? Besides looking at me in a setting outside of my house, that is,“ the glint in her eyes was nothing short of wicked.

“I did not mean to stare, I apologize. I just couldn’t help but admire you in this light, it makes you look even more beautiful than usual,“ he turned to her, now standing next to him. Before he could stop himself, he reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her lightly on the cheek where his fingers had brushed her skin just seconds before, the touch of his lips so faint and quick it took her a second to realize it had even happened. 

She stood in front of him, having to look up a little despite the heel of her boots and once again felt at a loss for words. None of this was meant to happen, this was still therapy. This was still a professional relationship, platonic at most. This was still a very public setting, a fact of which she was painfully reminded as she heard two of the smaller children around them giggle as he had kissed her.  
Taking a step away from him, she stood up straighter, smoothing creases out of her coat that weren’t there. 

“Hannibal, we’re still here for your mental benefit, please at least try to stay professional.“ 

He, too straightened up, obviously displeased about her reaction and her breaking the moment and began to search for the basket and then for the nearest fruit to pick. There was no point in trying to regain some part of the lightness their outing had had moments ago.  
Walking towards the trees, they began to choose the biggest, reddest apples they could find, not speaking a word. The silence in the car earlier had been comfortable, the silence of two people content to be together without having to fill the space at every cost but this was different. This was the silence of two people clinging to the the shambles of their once proudly standing boundaries. Well, one of them was still clinging, her grip on the professionally dressed corpse of their previous arrangement like that of a drowning woman on a raft. He wished she would at least consider giving herself into the waves of him. 

After several minutes, each feeling like an eternity in itself, Bedelia decided to break the tension.

“You never answered my question.“ 

The puzzled look she got in reply made her elaborate further.

“You never told me what you hoped to achieve with this new setting.“

Hannibal seemed to take a moment to think, moving further along the trees to find just the right apples for his dessert and the words for his psychiatrist. Only when the basket was filled to his satisfaction a few minutes later, did he speak. 

“To be perfectly honest, I did not hope to accomplish anything. Not in regards to my therapy at least. I thought, or at least hoped that a less… clinical setting, something outside of our routine would perhaps loosen your grip a little.“

Quirking an eyebrow and just barely resisting the urge to fold her arms defensively, Bedelia turned away from the task at hand to look at him. 

“My grip on what exactly?“

“On what our relationship has and has not to be.“

She dropped the produce she had still clutched in her hand unceremoniously on the ground, letting it roll a few feet away from her. He was never one to shy away from confrontation, he liked to throw things at her and watch her deal with his revelations, hoping to catch her fumbling one day. But this was something she could not have anticipated any less. 

Bending down to retrieve the apple she had picked earlier, examining it for any bruising, she tried to find a way to reclaim her control of the situation, her winning hand in their game of cards.  
Maybe the initial excitement over the new findings their excursion could bring had been more than a little misleading. 

“Our relationship is the same as it always was, Hannibal. I’m your therapist, you’re my patient. When your hour is up, you are my colleague. Nothing more, nothing less. You know better than to overanalyze anything physical that has happened between us.“

“I don’t think I’m overanalyzing at all. I merely think you’re too dismissing of certain possibilities.“ 

He was so unbelievably nonchalant and casual, picking up the basket, now filled to the brim and stood in front of her, obviously waiting for her next move. 

“Possibilities? Hannibal, if you’ve brought me here to…“ She did not dare finish the sentence. Presumptions and quick conclusions were, in her opinion, entirely out of place in psychiatry, and never more so with one Hannibal Lecter. 

“I have brought you here for nothing more than to talk, Bedelia. Which is what we always do, this time of the week. I thought we could expand the choice of topics a little, that’s all.“

As she heard herself sigh, Bedelia noticed that she was getting frustrated with him. It was annoyingly intriguing, his daring approach of this conversation equal to a hunter’s approach on his prey. Bedelia had never appreciated being preyed upon. 

“What makes you think that I would allow this particular topic? Either during our session or out of it?“

His face softened, as if he pitied her for her blindness, her stupidity. His look seemed to almost reach out to pat her on the head, like one would an ignorant child not yet equipped to understand the conversation of the adults around it. 

“It wasn’t anything you said, if that is what you are afraid of, Bedelia. Your words were as meticulously chosen as always. Unlike your actions, I’m afraid. We can hide behind words, behind analyzations and therapeutic measures, but our actions are much more straight forward. You kept telling yourself that every time you allowed me into your bed was the last time, wasn’t any more meaningful than it would have been with anyone else . But every rule you set up for yourself and me, by extension, crumbled as much as your resolve did the first time you kissed me in your kitchen. You initiated as many of our physical encounters as I did,“ his voice remained calm and calculated, every bit the qualified therapist. It dawned on her why she never wanted to be his patient. 

“Are you insinuating that I abused my position of power?“ She did cross her arms then, silently building up her guard, ready to defend and attack. 

“No, not at all. I was a willing and equal participant. But you should admit to yourself, that our relationship has progressed beyond the realms of professional and platonic. Your mind is still adamant that nothing has changed, but your body betrays you. Your pulse elevates and your pupils dilate every time I kiss you.“

As she inhaled air to retort, to find arguments to prove him wrong, she thought back to their first kiss, to the many that followed and paused, her mouth still open.  
She had blamed the wine back then, for making her rise up on the tip toes of her high heels in the middle of her kitchen and press her lips to his, glass still in hand.  
Bedelia could still recall the exact feeling of his mouth against hers, the sound of his surprised intake of breath at her actions and the few seconds it took him to reciprocate the kiss, how it had been the most exhilarating moment of her life when he finally did. And how the feeling had returned time and time again, with every kiss or touch or whisper of sweet nothings between her sheets. 

And she closed her mouth again, silently granting him his victory. 

Obviously satisfied with her response, or lack thereof he turned towards the farmhouse and started to walk back to the car, stopping to see if she was following him after a few steps. She wasn’t. 

“What exactly did you expect to achieve with this confrontation, Hannibal? Take me somewhere I couldn’t escape and hope I act en par with your wishes?“

It was his turn to sigh, the entire weight of their situation trying to force itself from his lungs at once. 

“I expected to open up a conversation about what our arrangement could and might entail in the future. I certainly never meant to trap you, I just had the idea that you might be more… receptive towards this type of subject outside of our established playing field.“ 

“Receptive? I do not like being manipulated, Hannibal. Neither do I appreciate being kept in the dark.“ She still hadn’t moved a muscle. Just because she couldn’t argue with his observations about her physical responses did not mean that he could treat her like he did all of his other little pawns. She refused to be the next Will Graham or Alana Bloom. 

“Yes, I am aware,“ he said, setting the basket down again and crossing the few feet back to where she stood, stopping when she was just within reach. He enjoyed that she never backed down from him, didn’t even break eye contact, even when she was displeased with him. Storms and threats and wars could not have wavered her and he admired her even more for it. A mighty goddess in her own right and power. “And I apologize if you feel as if I have coerced you into anything. That was never my intent. Now, I believe our hour is up and I have more than enough fruit to perfect my dinner. We could continue this conversation elsewhere or put it on hold, should you wish to think about what I suggested. I’m afraid I did rather spring it on you.“

“Don’t coddle me, Hannibal. I’m perfectly capable of having this conversation where and whenever I wish. I merely did not wish to have it at all.“ 

With that, it was her turn to make her way towards the orchard’s exit, leaving him behind to catch up whenever he wanted. He reached the car not two minutes after her and, after storing the apples safely into the trunk, started the engine to take them both home. The silence that followed was the most uncomfortable one yet, one filled with stubborn denial and unwanted reflection.  
Arriving at her door, he turned towards her before she had a chance to open the door and make her exit.

“Think about what I said, Bedelia. I have no expectations about the outcome, but at least entertain the idea talking about it. Please.“

His use of the word “Please“ is what stopped her from denying him his request then and there. Hannibal Lecter never shied from demanding, from manipulating or from outright taking what he wanted, but the sincerity of his plea managed to crack the walls she had built around herself earlier considerably.  
Her hand already resting on the door handle stopped, but she did not look at him again, hadn’t, since they left the apple trees behind them in the rearview mirror. 

“I’ll consider it.“ 

And she left a little too quickly, shutting the front door behind her a little too firmly. 

Bedelia spent the next 28 hours, 44 minutes and 15 seconds thinking about Hannibal and his request. 17 seconds… 18 seconds… 19 seconds…  
Maybe she should have accepted his dinner invitation and none of this would have happened.  
She could have stayed oblivious to her own desires and feelings, they could have stayed in that unmoving limbo without consequences or morals. But he had to get his way and rip her ignorant bliss to shreds. She rarely allowed herself to be anything less than razor sharp and observant but part of the appeal of her and Hannibal’s engagement had been, that total awareness hadn’t been necessary. She had indulged in being comfortable, rather than aware and for the time being she had been… happy? Content? 

Giving one up for the other is what Dr. Du Maurier had spent the last day thinking about… or trying not to thinking about. Was one worth more? And should either blow up in her face, where would that leave her? Alone, probably. Six-feet-under, with a broken heart or, in the worst case scenario - both. She almost shuddered thinking about it.Her mother had always praised her for not being a risk taker, for being cautious. Her sister had come home innumerable times with ripped tights and grass-stained dresses but never so Bedelia. Her pristine, careful nature had carried her all the way from the playground through school and adolescence to this point and yet, she still contemplated if it wasn’t about time to throw it out of the window for the chance of comfort and bliss and… happiness. The ever present promise of absolute contentment, dangling over her head like a treat. Or a guillotine. 

When she checked the clock for what felt like the 100th time that night, she saw the hands on the face of the clock move to eleven. His dinner party would most likely be over by now. 

“Now or never,“ she said, speaking into the emptiness of her living room and made her way to the front door, not bothering with a coat and scarf.

The relatively short drive to his house was enough to make Bedelia stop and turn around and back again no less than five times, reminding her of a cheaply imitated version of the protagonist in her sisters’ favorite romantic comedy. 

The time it took for him to open the door after she had run the bell almost made her turn around once more but just as she was about to step off of his porch, he answered. 

“Bedelia. What a pleasant surprise. Would you like to come in?“

He stepped aside to let her pass through the door, expecting her to move further into the house but she stopped near the hallway. His guests had already left, as she had anticipated and she felt a surge of relief. She wasn’t sure if she could muster up the resolution to prolong this any further. 

“Is something the matter? I did not expect to see you before our next appointment.“ Whether the concern in his voice was for her or himself, she wasn’t sure. 

Taking a deep breath, she raised her head, eyes meeting his and something inside of her mind seemed to move, slowly starting to shift.

“I’ve spent the last…“ she quickly glanced at the clock on the wall, then back to him, “29 hours and 2 minutes thinking about your request. I don’t know why I timed it. I don’t know why I even bothered to think about it. I wasn’t going to. My first instinct was to cancel all of our future sessions, to simply remove myself from the issue but I… couldn’t. Because you were right. Too right. My next instinct told me to simply tell you that everything you observed about my behaviour towards you was a figment of your imagination but that would be a lie. I think of myself as a very honest person. It’s a quality I appreciate in myself and in others as well. I appreciate it in you, most of the time. And once I started to think about the things I appreciate about you and about our… relationship I came to the conclusion that I would have to give up on quite a lot for this relationship to progress, as you called it. And about whether or not that sacrifice would be worth it. I would have to let go of our doctor/patient arrangement, of a large part of my living routine, of my caution and risk-free existence. It reminded me of autumn leaves on a tree, being let go to make way for something new in the spring. Do you think the tree would be willing to give up its’ leaves, if it were given the choice?“

Throughout her monologue, Hannibal had stood next to the now closed door, quite still, listening intently, searching every word for the possible outcome of her speech. The question directed at him threw him off a bit, but he decided to take the bait. 

“I think it would acknowledge that for something new and better to grow, something old and worn sometimes has to make room. I think it also, understandably, feels attached to the leaves it already has, no matter how… worn.“ His words were chosen as vaguely as possible, still unsure of where her tangent would leave him.

Bedelia took a moment to contemplate his answer, searching his face for any sign of… something. Something that would make her think that he wasn’t telling her the truth, but merely what he thought she wanted to hear. Or what he thought would get her to do his bidding. She couldn’t find any. And so she made a choice.

Slowly, every step carrying the weight of her decision with it, Bedelia made her way over to where he stood, still right next to the exit, her last opportunity to leave.  
When she was no more than a few inches from him, she spoke again. 

“I agree. But after all, isn’t innovation the way forward?“

Then she stood on her tip toes, closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his, waiting for that all too familiar exhilaration. 

She wasn’t disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! This is the longest thing I have ever written, outside of term papers. I don't know how that happened either. 
> 
> Thanks to K and kmo for the beautiful (albeit difficult!) prompt and their amazing blog. And for being my author/drag moms.


End file.
